


Goddard Futuristics Office Christmas Party 2017

by KirstieJ



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Party, Gen, Hiding, Multi, Office Party, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirstieJ/pseuds/KirstieJ
Summary: Scenes from the Goddard Futuristics Office Christmas Party. Thus far, includes most of the gang hanging out and hiding from the higher-ups, playing games and goofing off.T-rating for swears pretty much





	1. Chapter 1

  **Dec 23 rd 9:47PM **

“Well,” Minkowski starts in a singsong voice, “if we’re all gonna camp out down here anyway, we might as well do something fun.”

“Oh?” Lovelace asks with a smirk, holding her festive mug up to her lips. It contains a mix of peppermint Kahlua, vodka, and milk, in keeping with the theme of the night. “What do you have in mind, Renée?”

“You finished with this?” Renée asks Jacobi, plucking the rum bottle from the desk in front of him. He takes it from her to shake the last drops of alcohol from the bottom onto his tongue, then hands it back.

“Why?” he asks.

“We’re gonna play spin the bottle,” Renée announces, gleeful.  

“Excuse me?” Doug says from his spot on top of the other desk, his eyebrow perked.

“Why not?” Renée asks, going to sit on the floor. “C’mon, live a little, Doug!”

Doug knits his brows and looks over at Dominik, who shrugs at him before joining Renée on the floor.

“ _I_ think it sounds fun,” Dom tells her, and she grins and giggles at him in an amorous way. Daniel makes a gagging noise and spins his chair around.

“I’m down,” Isabel says, pushing herself off the filing cabinets to go sit opposite of Renée on the floor.

“Eh, why not?” Maxwell asks, shrugging her shoulders. She takes a spot next to Lovelace.

“Eiffel! Come on!” Renée says, in that barking tone she tends to take with him. Not that it’s effective, usually. Tonight it’s a little different.  

“Ffffine,” he hops down from the desk and goes to sit next to Renée, shaking his head.

“There is no way I am doing this,” Hilbert says from his spot behind the desk, not so secretly playing solitaire on the computer.

“Well, I’ll cave,” Daniel says, as he opens his flask and takes a swing on his way over to complete the circle. “If you all jumped off a bridge…” he trails off.

“Me first!” Renée cries, leaning forward and spinning the bottle in the middle of their circle. It lands on Isabel.

“Wait,” Isabel says, tilting her head. “What even are the rules here? Is this, like, kissing, or truth or dare, or what?”

“How about,” Dominik starts, “kiss or dare? You either kiss the person or they give you a dare.”

“Alright,” Isabel nods slowly, “I like your style. Who gets to decide which one is it, the spinner or… spinnee?”

“Both,” Renée says, “the person spinning gets to say their preference, but if the person it landed on doesn’t want to kiss, they have to provide a dare.”

“Everyone cool?” Isabel asks, and everyone nods and murmurs their agreement. “Cool,” she repeats. “So..?”

“Kiss?” Renée asks, and Isabel smirks.

“Hell yeah,” she says, and the two of them move to their knees to lean over the bottle in the middle. Isabel places a hand on Renée’s cheek and kisses her softly, before they part and settle back into formation. Renée giggles and Isabel rolls her eyes in an affectionate way.

After that, Isabel takes the bottle and spins it, landing on Daniel.

“Dare,” he says, before she has a chance to say anything. She snorts.

“Agreed. What’ll it be?”

“I dare you to…. Go lick that computer screen,” Daniel says, pointing to the computer that Hilbert isn’t playing solitaire on.

“What the fuck?” Isabel asks.

“Gross,” Doug says.

“Just do it. It’ll be like you’re kissing Hera or something instead of me.”

“Um, how?” Hera cuts in, from the speakers above “like, yeah, I’m connected through the computer but it’s not like that single computer _is_ me.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really make sense, Dan,” Alana starts.

“Okay, okay, you two can stop right there. I-” Daniel pauses, pointing a finger towards himself with the hand holding the flask, “am drunk. And I literally don’t care. Go lick the science, Izzy!”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Isabel grumbles, but she stands and walks over to the sleek computer sitting behind the desk, pressing her tongue to the screen for a couple second before leaning back and making gagging noises for the drama.

“And now it’s my turn,” Daniel says, taking the bottle and spinning it. He crosses his fingers behind his back. It lands on Doug, who looks surprised somehow.

“Uh,” Doug says, and Daniel regards him with hazy eyes.

“Kiss?”

“Okay?” Doug says, his voice going up an entire octave as it so frequently does when he’s spooked, or nervous, or confused. Well, really, anything can make it do that. Daniel scoots forward and Doug leans over as well, they kiss briefly.

Doug can taste the alcohol on Daniel’s lips and he hates it just a little, but he tries to put it out of his mind. The kiss is otherwise fine. Nice, even.

“Your turn,” Daniel reminds him with a raise of his brows.

“Right,” Doug says, muttering a swear as he takes the bottle and spins it. He winces as he watches it go, and his eyes widen when it lands on none other than Renée.

“Uh,” he starts again, looking over at her. She’s covering her mouth to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it.

“We should _probably_ do dare, ‘cause I’m your boss,” Renée says. “Totally not appropriate for the workplace.”

“Uh,” Doug says, but Isabel interjects.

“What about _any_ of this so far has been appropriate for the workplace? We’re literally hiding out from our bosses, most of us are fucking drunk, we’re already all kissing each other anyway.” 

“Follow your heart,” Daniel follows up, which causes Renée to laugh more, scandalized.

“Okay, okay,” Renée says, then she looks at Doug with her eyebrow perked.

“Oh boy,” is all he says, but the two of them lean in at the same time. Her lips, like Jacobi’s, taste of alcohol, but it’s much sweeter. She must have been drinking that peppermint Kahlua too, and he knows she’s been drinking wine. Doug glances over to Renée’s husband after they lean out. Dominik just winks at him, which causes Doug’s face to go even redder than it already is.

“It guess it’s me again!” Renée says, and spins the bottle. This time, it lands on Dominik. She grins at him and leans in, but right before they kiss she puts her finger between them. “I think you should give me a dare.”

“Really?” he asks, shaking his head in amusement.

“Gimme a dare, Dom,” Renee requests.

“I dare you to kiss me?”

“Nuh uh. That’s not fair.”

“Ren,” he says.

“Whoa, hold up,” Doug says, “do you call her that?”

“Dominik,” she hisses, looking at him.

“What? My little Rennie boo-boo bear?”

Doug lets out a loud laugh and Renée’s eyes go wide.

“He does _not_ call me that,” she says, holding up a finger and looking over at Doug.

“You are _never_ living that down,” Doug says anyway. The others are snickering as well.

“Dom,” Renée whines.

“You should’ve kissed me.”

“That is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Not exactly unusual, and all my punishments are cruel.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Isabel says, clicking her tongue.

“Okay, no,” Renée says, pointing at her. “We’re not doing that. Not going there.”

“Doing what?” Isabel asks, putting a hand on her cheek as she feigns innocence.

“I just kissed two people I work with, we are _not_ getting into sex stuff. I am not too drunk to be kissing but I am definitely too drunk to talk about kinks or fetishes.”

“It feels so wrong to hear you say those words, oh my god,” Doug says, holding his face. “You’re my bosss,” he whines.

“She’s also a married woman. Come on, Eiffel,” Isabel says with a roll of her eyes.

“We are dropping this, _now_ ,” Renée says.

“Like it’s HOT!” says Daniel from his spot, taking another swig from his flask. Alana giggles at him.

“I am very sorry for the direction this went,” Dominik says.

Renée huffs, then leans over to kiss him. After that, she hands him the bottle. “Okay. You spin.” Dominik takes it from her and spins the bottle. It lands on Alana.

Like Daniel, she calls out “Dare!” immediately.

“Hm, I’m no good at these.”

“I’ll give you something,” Daniel says with a smirk.

“Okay, c’mere,” Dominik says and Daniel scoots over to him, muttering in his ear.

“God, we are being such teenagers,” Isabel says in an airy voice, lifting her mug to her lips once again.

“I am _so_ worried,” Alana murmurs, waiting for Daniel to finish explaining his dare.

“Okay,” Dominik says, chuckling a little. “Okay, Alana, I dare you to hack into the computer system and change all the desktops to a picture of bigfoot with the words “seasons greetings” written on it?”

“I’ll find the specific image,” Daniel clarifies.

“Oh my GOD,” Alana says. “You’re gonna get me fired.”

“Come on, Alana, you can do it without it being traced back to you. I know you can,” Daniel says. She huffs at him, and he pauses for a second before smirking at her, “Are you saying you can’t?”

“Fucking… dammit,” she mutters.

“Is that what you’re saying, Alana?” Daniel continues to antagonize her, his voice taunting.

“Hell,” Alana says, “Fine, fine.” She grumbles and stands up, going over to the unoccupied computer. Daniel gets up to watch her, and slowly the rest crowd around the computer.

“Hera, you gonna help me out with the security protocol?”

“Hmm… Is that included in the dare?” Hera answered.

“Uhhh.. I mean, it would make things a lot easier and less invasive,” Alana looks over at Daniel.

“I mean if Hera is willing to help you, that’s fine?” Daniel says.

“Okay. Hera?” Alana asks.

“Mhh.. maybe. What’s in it for me?”

“What could we possibly even get you?” Daniel asks.

“Maybe think a little bit.”

“We don’t have a ton of time for this,” Alana points out.

“Doug! Get Hera to do the thing.”

“What?” Doug chimes in, “why me?”

“She likes you best!” Daniel says, gesturing towards him vaguely.

“Yeah, because she’s my actual friend,” Eiffel grumbles, then huffs. “Uh. Hera? Pleease? We would all probably be implicated in this if Alana manages to screw up and it’s traced back to us so you’d be saving my ass, and, like, Renée’s, and Isabel’s too.”

“Fine,” Hera says, tone just a little clipped. “If _I_ end up in trouble, I’m holding you all accountable.”

“Thank you,” Alana singsongs. “And don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. None of us will.”

Everyone quiets down as Alana sets to work. In about fifteen minutes, the deed is done. By that time, they’ve got music playing quietly from Doug’s phone and are back to milling about, chatting and (for most of them anyway) drinking.

All of the desktop backgrounds have been changed from the Goddard Futuristics holiday logo to a beautiful, festive, bigfoot-themed greeting card.

“Finished,” Alana announces, and they all turn back to her to see it.

“Yes,” Daniel whispers, and then a few of them start to chuckle, which dissolves into everyone giggling together before Alana herself bursts into laughter. Even Hilbert spares a chuckle.

“I.. cannot wait until Cutter sees that,” Renée snorts, putting a hand over her mouth.

“Your laugh is so cute,” Dominik tells her, and it’s Isabel who makes the gagging noise this time.

“Stop being so married, you two,” Isabel says.

“Sorry,” Renée says, but she doesn’t really sound sorry.

“So, are we done with spin the bottle?” Doug asks, picking up the bottle from the floor so nobody trips over it.

“Eh, yeah,” Renée says.

“I think it’s ru it’s course,” Daniel agrees, hopping up on one of the desks.

“What now?” Doug asks, tapping the bottle on the palm of his hand.

“Hmm,” Isabel taps her finger on her lips. “Not sure.” 

“Oh, oh! I have another idea,” Renée says, grinning.

“Yesss?” Doug perks a brow at her.

“Let’s sing Christmas carols!”

“Oh, okay, sure, _Cutter_ ,” Doug scoffs.

“Uncalled for!” Renée says, eyes going wide.

Daniel whistles, “Yep, that’s a bit much.”

“How could you even say something like that, Eiffel?” Isabel asks, shaking her head.

“Cold,” Hilbert says, deadpan, not looking up from the new computer game he is playing.

“Wow, Doug,” Hera sounds from above.

“Not to mention just.. mean,” Alana chimes in.

“Oh… my god, you’re all assholes,” Doug makes a show of rolling his eyes. “ _Obviously_ I didn’t mean it. Damn.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Renée says. “I know you’re just sensitive because you feel overshadowed by Jesus.”

“Oh my god,” Doug repeats, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose in the way Renée so often does. “Yeah, that’s totally it,” he says, sarcastic. “I’m just saying, if _he_ gets an entire month to celebrate his birthday, the least we can do is celebrate me the entire month, too.”

“I like it!” Renée calls out, and Doug laughs.

“What?”

“Henceforth, Doug is our new lord and saviour.” 

“Take it to bank,” Daniel says, “we have ourselves a solid idea.”

“Uh,” Doug says.

“Sweet baby Eiffel in the stable,” Isabel says, grinning at him. Alana cackles and claps a hand over her mouth.

“Okay, whatever,” Doug shakes his head with a laugh.

“So, all Christmas carols are now birthday carols,” Renée insists. “Which means we can still sing them!”

“Ugh,” Doug says again, but Renée immediately launches into the first line of “Baby It’s Cold Outside”.

When nobody answers her call of the first lyric, she repeats it, more forcefully, until Isabel joins her. Renée’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree and she continues the song, smiling. After a few moments of singing, Isabel grabs Renée’s hands and pulls her to dance, as Alana offers some background vocals from her spot on the floor with her laptop open on her the top of her thighs.

The three women start another song together, with Renée pausing in the middle to yell at the men to join in. Dominik eventually starts humming and Daniel whistles along with them, too. Hilbert hums a little bit too and Doug eventually caves and sings quietly along.

Their third song is cut off after the first chorus of “let it snow” when Hera flashes a light at them and starts fake-whispering, “Hey! Everyone! I need your attention!”

“What is it, Hera?” Renée asks, swaying backwards as she looks towards the speaker Hera is talking from.

“You all need to hide _now_ , your bosses are headed this way!”

“Oh shit,” Renée mutters, and they all freeze.

“Go!” Hera tells them, and they all scramble, almost able to hear the clicking of heels on the floor from the hall. They _cannot_ afford to get caught by anybody hiding out from the office Christmas party.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Futuristics Office Christmas Party came to be

**Dec. 23** rd 9:04PM   
  
“Come in, Eiffel, come in,” Minkowski hisses into her walkie talkie. “Where are you?”

“Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“I just need to know your location, as stated.”

“Yeah, yeah, right. Uh, Iz and I are down where the overflow outerwear is stashed. What about you?”

“I’m in the office. I’ve been here for approximately ten minutes, no sign of Cutter or Young yet.”

“Yeah, us either,” Doug responds, looking over a Lovelace. “Should we move there as well?”

“Hm. I mean, it’s probably more comfortable than wherever the outerwear is stashed,” Renée says. “If you feel secure to move to our location, feel free to proceed.”

“Roger that, commander,” Doug says, making his voice sound professional and serious. “Isabel and I will move toward you. Over and out.”

Renée slips the walkie talkie into the top of her skirt, inelegant, because of course there are no _pockets_. Why would there be _pockets_ in a professional, sharp pencil skirt, such as the one she’s wearing?

“So, what’s the word?” the man next to her asks.

“Doug and Isabel are joining us in here,” Renée says, turning to stand between his legs where he’s seated on top of a cluttered desk.

“Joyous!” he responds, and she smiles, giving a roll of her eyes as she rests her wrists on either side of his neck.

“Yeah, unless we all get caught.”

“That’s part of the appeal,” he winks at her. “The heightened stakes, it’s thrilling.”

Renée sorts, “Get over yourself, Dominik. It’s an office Christmas party we’re avoiding, not a battleground.”

“It’s still fun to be sneaking around your building like we’re teens playing hooky, though, isn’t it?”

“I never played hooky, are you kidding me? Hi, Mr. Kouldeka. Have we met?” Dominik snorts at her and she chuckles lightly as he pulls her forward to kiss her.

“Gross!” comes a voice from the door, startling them away from each other by an inch or so. “Excuse me, I don’t see any mistletoe hung above you,” Doug goes on, taking a step in. “And I don’t need to see mommy kissing Santa Claus, thank for very much.”

“Hey, uhhh, can you not fucking refer to Renée as mommy, thanks?” Isabel says, pushing him into the room so she can shut the door behind her.

“It was a joke, don’t read into it,” Doug scoffs.

“If you don’t want us to consider it, don’t say it.”

“Yeah, Eiffel,” Hera sounds from the speaker nearest to him, “and it’s not as if it’s the first time you’ve said that, either.”

“Wait, really?” Isabel asks, grinning widely.

“Okay, nope, nope nope,” Doug points his finger towards the speaker Hera chose to speak from, “we’re not going there. _Especially_ not the first time we’re meeting Renée’s husband, we are gonna pretend we are normal for at least one goddamn night.”

“Your effort to make a good impression on my husband is appreciated, Doug, but not necessary. Believe me, he knows all too well what goes on here,” Renée says, bringing herself to hug her husband and she regards Doug out of the corner of her eyes.

“Christ,” Doug mutters, flopping down in one of the chairs, which causes him to roll and bump into a much more pristine desk than the one Dominik is sitting on top of. He then rolls the chair over to the disastrous desk Dominik chose and pulls out one of the drawers, digging around in the similarly disastrous mess until he pulls out a package of cigarettes and a lighter. “Okay, well, while we’re pretty sure we’re relatively safe _I_ am stepping outside before I die of nicotine withdrawal.” 

“Could you be any more of a drama queen?” Isabel asks.

“I’m not Marcus Cutter,” Doug says, standing up.  

“Point taken. I think I’m gonna pop out with you for some fresh air. Hold down the fort, you two?” Isabel says.

“Of course, captain. As we’ve been doing,” Dominik replies with a nod.

“If we run into any trouble, we’ll radio you, and I expect you to do the same if necessary,” Renée instructs, sounding professional.  

“Gotcha, boss,” Doug says with a crappy salute. “Also, no funny business. That’s _my_ desk you’re cannoolding on.”

Renée snorts, “It’s your desk in _my_ office.”

“In Goddard’s building,” Isabel points out.

“You’re taking his side?” Renée asks with a little pout, reaching behind Dominik to pick up the bottle of wine she’d brought down with her during their initial escape.

“Hey, I’m Switzerland here,” Isabel says as she holds her hands up.

“Just, please don’t deface my desk,” Doug whines.

“I’ll think about it,” Renée says, lifting the bottle to her lips and taking a swig of her dry Riesling. Doug scoffs, but he exits the door with Isabel trailing behind him anyway.

“You’re all so _snarky_ ,” Dominik comments with a chuckle.

“It’s the only way we can operate without killing each other,” Renée says, before taking another gulp of wine.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you drink straight from a bottle. It’s kinda hot,” Dominik tells her, smirking. 

“I am a classy bitch,” Renée declares, swallowing one more mouthful of wine before putting the bottle down and giggling. “It’s been a _minute_ since I’ve drank anything at all.”

“I know,” Dominik snickers. “Probably why you’re feeling it so much.”

“Psh, what are you talking about?” Renée asks.

“My love, I don’t know if this is news to you, but you are drunk,” Dominik tells her, and she just snickers again. 

“Funny that I need a journalist to let me know, huh?”

Dominik laughs along with her, “Hilarious.”

She smiles at him and moves to close the gap between them again, pressing a kiss to his lips. He kisses her back, pulling her a little closer to his body. The kiss doesn’t take long to get at least a little heated, Renée parting her lips and her husband eagerly mimicking her. She lets out a little noise and he laughs against her lips. Renée twists her hands into his hair and he grips the back of her blazer.

A moment after Renée makes another noise into their kiss, they’re startled apart once again by the door being opened. This time, when Renée looks over, it’s not the two people she was expecting, but two different people entirely.

“Oh, uh… oops. _Totally_ did not mean to walk in on you or anything,” the man says, holding his hands up, though one of them has a nearly empty bottle of rum in it.

“You definitely weren’t,” Renée insists, clearing her throat as she steps back from Dominik. “Nothing to see here. But. Just _how_ did you get in here, anyway? Only three people have the access keys to this, aside from the higher-ups,” Renée says, fixing the clothes that may have shifted in their brief make-out session.

“Please, a security bypass as small as a key code is not that difficult,” the woman says, a hand on her hip.

“Okay, whatever. What the hell are you two even doing down here, then? Did Cutter send you to try and find us?” Renée asks, her voice grave.

“What? No,” the man snorts. “We’re just… talking a walk. Y’know. A break from the party.”

“And bypassing security to get into an office that isn’t yours?” Renée asks. The two of them look at each other, shrugging a little.

“We were…. Going to… root through your stuff?” the woman says, wincing afterwards. Not the smartest reply from someone who is technically a genius.

“Um, no, that’s a terrible lie, Alana.  We were _actually_ just looking for a place to squat. The party is fucking hell, as are all of Goddard’s functions. We figured we didn’t want to use _our_ office because that would be the mostly likely place to look for us,” the man explains.

“Hm. Sound reasoning, Jacobi,” Renée says, then she glances around. “Though, here probably isn’t any better because this is _my_ office and _I_ am down here.”

“Hm, fair point,” Maxwell says. “I mean, we can always ask the computer system to alert us if there’s anybody coming your way. Who is it on this floor again? Hera?”

“That’s me!” Hera chimes in.

“Greeeat. Can you do that for us? Let us know if anybody other than us is coming our way?”

“Um, sure. It would take a direct order, though.”

“Okay, that’s a direct order,” Renée says.

“Aye-aye, boss,” Hera says.

“Wait, so, like, are you staying here?” Renée asks, tilting her head as Jacobi and Maxwell shuffle into the room, Maxwell slinging a bag from her shoulder to get out her laptop.

“Seems that way,” Daniel responds, “unless you two really were about to get down,” he says with a smirk.

“Um, no,” Renée says firmly, blushing a little, though part of it is just the wine. “No, we were not.”

“Then, here is a good a place as any to hang out, right?” Daniel says, hopping up onto the free desk and twisting off the cap of his rum, taking a swig. Meanwhile, Alana plops onto the floor near some of the filing cabinets, sitting with her computer in her lap as she starts typing away at something.

“O-kay,” Renée says slowly, nodding a little. She looks at her husband, then picks up her bottle of wine again.

“Oh, wine, nice! Cheers,” Daniel says with a grin, brandishing his bottle forward. Renée knits her brows but walks over to him to clink their bottles together before they both take another drink.

“Renée? Doug and Isabel are approaching,” Hera interjects, informative.

“Sounds good, Hera,” Renée says with a nod. A moment or two later, Doug lets them into the room with his access card, as before.

“Hey, boss,” he says, then stops a couple steps into the room. Isabel almost bumps into him.

“Eiffel, I _swear_ to _fuck_ if you don’t quit stopping in front of me- If you had’ve made me spill my drink, I would have **murdered** you.”

“Oops, sorry, Iz,” Doug mutters, moving out of her way as he jerks his head towards Alana and Daniel. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We’re joining your Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Office Christmas Party. Or, crashing it, rather. We missed the memo, but that didn’t really stop us, did it?” Daniel says, putting his bottle down on the desk beside him.

“Aren’t you two like… up Cutter’s ass most of the time?” Doug asks, grimacing.

“Not exactly,” Alana says, not looking up from her computer. “Daniel’s kinda sorta up _Kepler’s_ ass, at least in one sense anyway, and Kepler is most _definitely_ up Cutter’s ass, so I guess I can see why you might come to the conclusion that we are all, collectively, up Cutter’s ass, but… It’s not that simple.”

Doug snorts, “Okay, okay.”

“What did you mean by ‘in one sense’?” Isabel asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Oho, we are _not_ going there,” Daniel says. “She didn’t mean jack shit by that, other than I’m Warren’s favourite and there are people who are bitter about it.”

“I’m not one of them. Though, to be fair, sometimes I don’t get what he sees in you either,” Alana says, glancing over at Daniel with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Hey, Lan? Alana? Go fuck yourself,” Daniel says, glaring back at her.

“Hey!” Renée says, putting her wine bottle down and holding her hands up. “This Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Office Christmas Party is supposed to be a less hostile situation than the one upstairs. We are a hate-free zone down here, at least for tonight. So, stop being shady, everyone.”

“Oh my god, can you _please_ just be drunk all the time? Or at least call people shady on the daily,” Doug says with a grin.

“It would not be a good idea for me to be drunk all the time, partially because that’s extremely unhealthy and would be very concerning.”

“Yeah, uh, I know,” Doug says.

“And, while this lowered filter may be novel to you now, I’m sure it would get tiresome after a while.”

“Now that is highly debatable and overall unlikely,” Doug insists, and Renée just scoffs at him.

“Renée,” Hera cuts in again, “Dr. Hilbert is approaching the door.”

“Huh? Hilbert?” Renée asks, her brows pinching again. “That’s strange. Would Cutter have sent him?”

“Uh.. I dunno,” Doug says, and Isabel shrugs.

“I doubt it,” Daniel murmurs and Alana makes a noncommittal noise.

“Uh. Um. Turn off the lights, Hera,” Renée says.

“What is _that_ supposed to do?” Alana hisses, but Hera complies and they’re all suddenly in darkness. Alana shuts her laptop and curls her knees to her chest.

“Everyone stay quiet and be still,” Renée hisses back, standing between the two desks. Doug and Isabel shuffle near the desks as well, stepping in behind Renée to have at least some cover. The men sitting on the desks twist around so they’re facing the wall and the other three people.

Dr. Hilbert stands in the doorway, squinting. He expects the lights to come on, but they don’t. He waves a hand in to attempt to catch their sensors, but they still don’t turn on. He makes a quiet disgruntled noise, waving his arm a bit more.

“Hera? You are online, yes?”

“Yes, Dr. Hilbert.” She responds.

“Lights, please,” he grumbles.

“No,” Renée hisses, “don’t, Hera. Direct order.” She covers her mouth, smiling she glances around at the others. A couple of them start smiling back.  

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Did Cutter issue a blackout of all office spaces?”

“Uh, nope.”

“Then what is it?” Alexander asks, deadpan.

“I received a direct order.”

“From who, if not Cutter?”

“Um, from Renée, Doctor.”

“When?” Alexander asks, taking a step into the room. “Surely if she had have set an order before we left the office earlier this week it would have timed out by now. I cannot see a thing.”

“It wasn’t set before we left the offices.”

“Then when was it set?” Alexander asks, trying the buttons on the wall that control the lights. Hera prevents them from turning on. He groans and presses them harder, repeatedly. “Just turn on the godforsaken lights. _This_ is an order.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, you still technically don’t outrank Renée. She’s the director of the division you’re under.”

“I’m trying to turn on _lights._ This is not some grave, important matter that I need a security clearance for. Unless Mrs. Minkowski is here, I do not see the problem.” Dr. Hilbert’s voice steadily conveys his frustration more and more as he continues to talk and press the buttons.

Doug claps a hand over his mouth, able to just make out the outrageous expression on Renée’s face at the moment. Isabel is biting her tongue, as Jacobi pushes his luck at staying silent while taking another straight shot of rum.

“Well, there is a problem with that.”

  
“And WHAT is it?” Hilbert growls. “Did she _just_ deliver this order, _is_ she here right now?”

“Hera,” Renée hisses, but it’s too late.

“That would be it,” Hera says, sounding a little chime to indicate he’d guessed it right.

“Okay, okay, the jig is up,” Renée announces. “Lights, Hera. Please.”

Dr. Hilbert blinks as the bright lights come on, shaking his head as he walks in and sees the group of people all squished behind, on top of, and in front of the desks of the relatively small office space. The look on his face betrays how startled he is to see the amount of people hanging out, and their response to his expression is abrupt laughter from at least a few of them.

“What are you all doing down here?” Dr. Hilbert demands, once the laughter dies down.

“Chillin’,” Isabel says with a shrug.

“Having some… dranks,” Daniel says, holding up his bottle.

“Speaking of,” Isabel says, “mine is a little weak. Think you could spare just a teeny tiny bit there, Jacobi?” She holds out her Christmassy mug, giving a big, slightly fake smile.

“Well, they do say sharing is caring,” Jacobi says, “and tis the season, huh?” He uncaps his rum and pours out a little more than a shot in Isabel’s mug, giving her a wink.

“Thanks.” She says, giving him a nod before swirling her mug and taking a drink. “Nice stuff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And what are you doing down here, Doctor?” Renée asks, tapping a heeled foot on the ground.

“Nothing,” Dr. Hilbert says, “I am doing nothing. I am here, not participating in the on-goings upstairs.”

“Well, hey, looks like we got some things in common,” Jacobi says.

“You’re here for the Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Office Christmas Party?” Renée perks a brow.

Hilbert regards her skeptically. “Yes? Perhaps? Does this require me to do anything?”

“Nope,” Alana pipes up from her spot on the floor, having grabbed her laptop back. “Basically, just don’t do anything that well get us caught by Cutter, Young, or Kepler. Or anybody that would get us in trouble with them.”

“Noted. Seems like I am… joining your party, then.”

“Welcome!” Renée says, throwing out her arms in a grand gesture.

“Thank you,” Dr. Hilbert says, then goes to sit at Renée’s desk and turns on her computer. If Alana can sit and play on a computer, so can he. 

Renée goes over to her husband once again and takes a small sip of her wine, thinking. For now, they’re all just hanging out quietly, Alana and Daniel have started chatting a little with Isabel and Doug chiming in now and then. Honestly, as far as office Christmas parties go, this one is much better than the one they’re avoiding. Still, perhaps there’s a way to liven it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after the first chapter!

**Dec 23 rd 10:23PM **

Upon hearing that their bosses are approaching the office they are hiding out in, Alexander, Daniel, and Alana all run towards the supply closet. Renée shoves Dominik in a little nook behind the filing cabinets as Isabel and Doug duck under Renée’s desk. Renée looks around herself wildly before running and flinging herself under the desk as well, because the angle of Doug’s desk is more likely to reveal them from where people would be entering the room. As they settle into their hiding spots, Hera adjusts all systems to their regular idle settings and dims the lights.

Underneath the desk it’s pretty cramped, and Renée almost immediately regrets shoving herself in with the other two, but as the door clicks open there’s nothing she can do. So, she hikes up her skirt a bit and presses closer to Doug, who is squished against Isabel at the back of the desk near the wall. Doug makes a noise and Renée claps her hand over his mouth. She can only sort of make out his expression in the dark, but it’s not one of happiness. She glares at him, her own lips pressed tight, before tucking her chin on his shoulder and looking at Isabel, who is biting her lip and doing all she can to keep her breathing steady. She looks like she’s almost smiling.  

“Hm. I could have sworn I heard something down this way,” Cutter’s voice comes from the entrance of the room and the lights turn on automatically. “Oh. No,” he says, shielding his eyes and hitting the button to turn them off again as a pair of heels tap into the room.

“That’s probably just the alcohol playing games with you, Marcus,” a woman’s voice declares. “Hm. Who is in here?” she hums.

Renée feels Doug tense up beneath her and she presses her hand to his mouth more firmly, gingerly lifting her head to glare at him again.

“What do you mean?” Cutter asks.

“It’s 214, right? Am I right? 214?”

“Oh, Hera!” Cutter says.

“Yes, that is me. 214,” Hera says, sounding a little displeased.

“Great. Could you lift the lights just the  _tiniest_ bit? I’m sure you know a level that my eyes are suited for.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is this okay for you, Marcus?”

“I’m fine with pitch blackness. Though, oh, this is kind of nice. We can  _just_  see the décor! Look at this wonderful picture here,” Cutter says, gesturing to the wall. “What star is that?”

“Hm, I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a red dwarf, maybe no specific one. It is a rather nice painting.”

“Miranda, it’s gorgeous,” Cutter insists. “A red dwarf, you say? Like Wolf 359, right?”

“Precisely.”

“Huh. That’s funny. This is Renée Minkowski’s office, you know.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me, Marcus?” Pryce asks, hopping up on the cleaner of the two desks as Marcus stares at the picture hung on the wall.

“Well, perhaps not. But lieutenant Minkowski only  _narrowly_  missed the opportunity to be on the trip to Wolf 359, you know.”

“Oh really? And you kept her back here?”

“Yeah. Y’know, I think she might have some real potential,” Cutter says, sounding cryptic.

Under the desk, Renée digs her nails into Doug’s shoulder, and he gently bites at her hand in retaliation. She pushes on his shoulder and stares at him, hard, doing her best to prevent a noise from escaping her lips. Isabel leans her head back as gently as she can, touching the wall behind her, her eyes rolled towards the sky in frustration.

“Hera, too. Hera almost made it on that mission. Didn’t you, Hera?”

“I recall you playing with the idea, Mr. Cutter.”

“Yeah! And good ol’ Doug Eiffel. This is his post-hurricane wreck of a desk here. We thought about sending him up, too. You already know about Hilbert. Funny this one office worked out that way, huh?” Cutter snickers and Miranda rolls her eyes. “But, y’know, down here is fine for now. And there are always possibilities with other space missions, if the need arises.”

“Of course,” Pryce says. “I have faith in your, let’s say, team-organizing skills. Despite the fact that almost half of our staff is currently MIA from the goddamn holiday party we are, ourselves, currently not attending.”

“Oh  _Miranda_. Everyone knows half the fun of office Christmas parties is doing what you can to avoid the un-pleasantries you’re supposed to be making with your bosses. If our people are creative and resourceful enough to remove themselves from even the possibility of small talk with us, we don’t need to take it personally.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is intended personally. But you would catch me dead before caring about something like that,” Miranda says. “Which you should really know by now.”

“Of course I do!”

“You just like hearing yourself talk.”

“Right again,” Marcus laughs.

“Okay, you’re cut off from the alcohol,” Miranda saying, giving a light chuckle herself.

“Boo!” Marcus says turning around to face her, “why is everywhere you go a ‘no fun allowed’ zone, Miranda? Let loose, would you?” From underneath the desk, Doug, Isabel, and Renée can see his fancy dress shoes on the carpet. Renée subconsciously presses even closer to Doug, who shrinks back onto Isabel, squeezing his eyes shut. He never really imagined  _this_  would be the situation in which he would find himself trapped between two (admittedly gorgeous and badass) women he worked with, and it’s not a very pleasant one.

“It’s probably my lack of humor in general. I am as loose as I want to be, Marcus. Frankly, the frequency with which you treat everything so nonchalantly is more concerning to me than my  _lack_  of ability to have ‘fun’.”

“Yikes, coming in hot. C’mon, Miranda, I’m just  _joking_. Honestly, could you try to lighten up?” Marcus says in a snappy tone, scoffing.

“But Marcus,” Miranda smirks, hopping down from the desk and taking a couple of steps towards him. “What is Christmas without endless, overly personal attacks and constant, mindless bickering? Can we really call this a family holiday party without a few minor-to-major squabbles and  _many_  unnecessary, uncalled-for insults?”

“…Touché. Perhaps you’re finally discovering the true meaning of Christmas after all.” With that, she slides her hands to his neck and he takes a step back, then another, until he bumps into the wall.

Renée and Isabel watch as best they can as Pyrce’s heels join Cutter’s shoes on the floor, and listen hard to try and understand just what they’re doing. Doug, somehow, gets even more tense where he’s squished between the two women, and Renée for some godforsaken reason only presses closer to him, which is starting to be… a bit much to bear in this adrenaline-filled situation.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or strangle me, darling,” Cutter says, voice syrupy, and Miranda lets out a delicate laugh.

“Wouldn’t you just like to know my intentions?”

“Hm, I  _would_ ,” Cutter replies.  

“Well, either is on the table at this point. How does that sound for ‘fun’?”

“Oh, Miranda,” Cutter practically snorts, throwing his head back only to bang it against the wall. He mutters an ‘ow’ before he looks at her again. “Never change.”

“What? I’m being completely serious. Doesn’t the suspense of a situation where you don’t know if the other intends to be affectionate or aggressive sound exciting? Not to mention, ‘strangling’ can have a couple of connotations depending on the context, which just adds another layer of fun to the mix.”

Underneath the table, Doug does his best to prevent the strangled little whine that comes from his throat. Thankfully, the laughter from his bosses is enough to mask it from them, but not from Renée, who tugs on his hair and mouths ‘stop’ at him as best she can. Isabel takes in a slightly sharper than usual breath through her nose and drops her head forward to Doug’s shoulder, trapping Renée’s hand on his neck. Renée’s other hand is still loosely covering Doug’s mouth and he does his best to whine with his face instead of his mouth, his eyes portraying a pained expression.

“Oh, Miranda,” Cutter repeats once he stops laughing. “That you would think aggression is the first connotation I would attached to ‘strangling’ is so… so precious.”

“Shut up, Marcus,” Pryce laughs again and he joins her a second later, lifting his hands up to her waist. The two of them hug, briefly.

Meanwhile, Hilbert, Jacobi, and Maxwell are squished together in a slightly more comfortable position in comparison to the three underneath the desk. Daniel and Alana both have their ears pressed to the door, while Hilbert leans as safely as he can against a free-ish space on the supply closet wall, away from them. He’s rolled his eyes about fifty times since they got in there, as Daniel and Alana do their best to hear what’s going on and interpret the sounds of movement to something that would make sense.

Every time they whisper something to each other, Hilbert winces and makes the softest noise he can manage to get them to stop, which results in  _them_  glaring at  _him_  to shut up. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’s going to lose his marbles. 

“Well. Enough dicking around, huh?” Marcus asks, as Miranda takes a step back and drops her hands from his neck.

“What were we even down here for, again?”

“A breather. And,” Marcus says, going over to Doug’s desk and pulling out the drawer. The three underneath the other desk freeze completely, barely even breathing. “To steal some cigarette papers.”

“Can we just… do that?” Miranda asks with another laugh. “Also, are employees even allowed to have papers, or tobacco, or anything like that?”

“Yes, and yes! They just can’t smoke on the premises, technically,” Cutter says, standing up with some papers in his hand as he shuts the drawer with his knee. “And, anything that is left in our offices becomes Goddard property, so while these are Dougie boy’s, I get free reign to take whatever I please from anything left here. It’s in the contract!” he explains with glee, then sighs. “It’s good to be on top.”

“You’re a monster,” Miranda says with another snort.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Marcus counters with a smile. “Now, let’s go to  _our_  offices, smoke something fun, and get back to the party. God bless Doug Eiffel and his terrible, terrible habits.”

“I mean, who keeps not only cigarettes but  _papers_  at their workplace, anyway?” Miranda asks with a scoff.

“Thankfully for us,  _someone_  does, or else we would be shit out of luck, wouldn’t we? Well, someone would have to brave the storm to go pick something up. Not one of us, but, still. All that trouble would be daunting. This is much more efficient.”

“I guess,” Miranda says. “It’s still, like- God, who do you keep employed here?” Miranda mutters.

“Whoever I see fit,” Marcus says, an edge to his voice as he starts to walk towards the door. “Last I heard, it didn’t concern you, Miranda.”

“Ooh, another holiday fight?”

“Miranda,” Cutter gripes, and she laughs at him, as she trails behind him.

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” she says. “I’ll no longer question your undoubtedly questionable decisions. At least not for tonight.”

“Why thank you,” Cutter says, eyeroll evident in his voice. Miranda lets out a joyous, or perhaps cruel laugh as they shut the door behind them, walking down the hall and to the elevator that will take them up the many floors to where Cutter’s office sits.

“Hera, are they gone?” Renée says, quiet as she can. Hera picks up her voice anyway.

“Yes, Renée, you’re all in the clear,” Hera tells them, turning on the lights again as literally everyone in the room breathes a loud sigh of relief.

Alana throws open the door to the supply closet and Daniel stumbles out behind her. Dominik steps out from where he was pressing his body behind a filing cabinet. Alexander steps into the room once the others are out of the way.

Under the desk, Renée and Doug stare at each other for a few seconds in the now much brighter room. Doug’s face is notably redder than normal and Renée clears her throat, trying to elegantly climb off him in the cramped space. When that doesn’t work, she basically throws herself to the side and rolls onto the ground in front of the desk, putting her hands over her face.

“Hey there, lovely,” Dominik says, standing between the two desks. He can see Renée on the floor and watches as Doug huffs and resolves to just try to climb over her. He can hear Isabel swearing and grumbling behind him.

“Wait, are you telling me the three of you fit under there?” Daniel asks, letting out a hoot as Doug flops onto the ground beside Renée, then promptly gets up to move out of Isabel’s way as she struggles to push herself out of the corner she was stuck in to and tries to crawl over Renée as well.

“And I thought being stuck in the closet was bad,” Hilbert mutters.

“It is,” Daniel says, and Alana snorts.

“Preach,” Doug mutters and Isabel laughs along as she finally clears Renée’s limp body on the floor.

“Yeah, retweet,” she adds, pausing, “you know, we can practically see your underwear, Ren,” Isabel tells Renée once she’s out from under the desk and kneeling next to her. Renée groans and lifts moves her hands to pull down her skirt. ****

“I should not have worn this skirt.” Renée mutters, sitting up, a thought entering her mind. “Actually...”

“Uh, boss?” Doug asks. Not to be a gross person, but he’s definitely not going to be able to handle it if she’s about to strip off her clothes after that whole ‘being jammed between two hot and sort of scary women while his terrifying bosses linger around them’ ordeal.

Renée puts a hand on her forehead for a second, groaning again, before she moves to stand up. “Yeah?”

“Are you… good?” Doug asks her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. That was only the most terrifying ten minutes of my entire career here so far, which, hasn’t always been a walk in the park, you know,” Renée says. “Dom, do you have my wine?”

“It’s right here,” Dominik says, holding up her bottle.

“Excellent,” Renée says, going over to one of the stacks of filing cabinets and pulling out the bottom drawer. “And thank you, past self,” she mutters.

“She’s officially lost it. I think the stress was too much,” Doug comments, and Isabel laughs a little.

“It was pretty scary. Buuuut, a little exciting, wouldn’t you say, Eiffel?” Isabel asks, raising her brows at him.

Doug gives her a hard stare, his cheeks getting a little brighter, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Let’s not get into that,” Renée says, walking towards her desk with a bundle of fabric in her hands. She puts it on top of her desk before moving her hands to the zipper of her skirt.

“Whoa, excuse me, when did stripping get involved here?” Daniel asks, eyes wide.

“Oh, calm down,” Renée scoffs. “Turn around, if you must. They’re just legs.” Daniel turns around. Hilbert and Alana pointedly look away as well. She starts to shimmy her skirt down her waist, her legs technically still covered by her semi-opaque black tights

She glances down at herself, and then at the group of people in front of her, Isabel and Dominik shamelessly looking at her and Doug only sort of looking away. “Fuck it,” she grumbles, and swiftly rolls off her pantyhose as well before stepping into the exercise leggings she grabbed from the cabinet. As quick as she can, she pulls them up a little past her belly button. “There!” she announces, then breathes another sigh of relief.  

“I…” Doug says, then shakes his head. Renée goes over to Dominik and plucks her bottle of wine from his hand, taking a big drink.

“Y’know, as far as stripteases go, Renée, I think you could do much better,” Isabel tells her and Doug just makes a whining noise.

“Iz, can you like, just, not, right now,” Doug whispers at her.

“Oh, I’m sure Dominik would tell you that I can -and have- done much better. But, for the sake of the people for whom this is still something of a  _workplace_ , I think it was fair. I can already see in Eiffel’s eyes he’s never, ever going to look at me the same way again.”

“I think that ship sailed when you climbed on top of him. Maybe when you  _kissed_  him earlier?” Isabel asks, and Renée just lifts her wine bottle to her lips again, glaring.

“It did seem pretty snug under there, huh? Must have been… pretty intimate,” Dominik observes.

“Oh, not you too,” Renée huffs. “And, shut up, Isabel, I kissed you as well! We were all under that desk together.”

“There are many differences between Eiffel and I,” she points out.

“And this is all incredibly uncomfortable!” Daniel comments, and Alana makes a noise of agreement.

“Hey, you decided to crash our Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Office Holiday party. It’s not our fault the ride got wild, and, if you can’t take it, you’re free to get off,” Renée says.

“Getting off is the last thing I want to do with you people.”

“DANIEL!” Alana groans loudly, pressing her hands to her temples. Everyone else joins her in griping.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I started regretting that as I was saying it.”

“God,” Renée mutters, and takes another drink of her wine. She’s not even going to attempt to respond to Jacobi. “It’s almost empty,” she whines a moment later.

“Anyone wanna go on a stealth mission for more booze?” Isabel asks.

“Ugh, yes, please. But… is it worth the risk?” Daniel asks.

“Is that even a question?” Isabel counters.

“You’re absolutely right. Let’s do it,” Daniel says.

“Eh, I should probably try to sober up,” Renée says as she drinks the last of her wine.

“Why would you wanna do that?” Doug asks with a scoff.

“Doug,” Renée says, looking at him quizzically. “Do I need to point out the irony of you being the one to say that?”

“You do not, boss. You do not.”

“Okay,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “And, well, I just took off my skirt in front of my husband and five coworkers, including two of my direct subordinates no less. I think that’s enough to warrant slowing down on the alcohol, if not a full and complete stop.”

“Eh, if you classify that as a problem. Remember the time you walked in on Hilbert and I-“

“AHEM, we do not need to be discussing-“ Dr. Hilbert immediately cuts in, tone serious.

“But Doctor, that was  _so_  funny,” Doug continues, talking over Hilbert talking over him.

“Whoa, hold up, what is this story?” Daniel asks.

“I’m not really sure we need to hear it,” Alana says, wincing. “Besides, weren’t you about to go find liquor? Not that that’s a great idea, either. But, lesser of two evils.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Jacobi,” Isabel says. “I know the story, I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Excellent,” Daniel grins.

“Oh, hey,” Renée says. “Here, Iz, you take the uh..” she glances down for a second, “the walkie talkie. Take it.”

“You really are drunk, huh?” Isabel asks.

“I think the adrenaline sobered me up for a hot second, but now that it’s gone I’m like… more drunk,” Renée says.

“Logical. Not sure that’s how that works, but,” Isabel shrugs.

“Alcohol works in mysterious ways,” Doug comments.

“Agreed,” Renée says.

“We’re off,” Isabel declares. “Wish us luck.”

“Good luuccck,” Renée says. The others repeat her with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“So… what now?” Dominik asks.

“Hm,” Renée says. “I dunno. Anybody else have any ideas? Fun party games?”

“Oh, I have so many ideas,” Doug says with a grin, “but absolutely none of them are good.”

“Lay it on me,” Renée replies, gesturing towards him.

“Can’t we just, y’know, chill out, relax, play some nice quiet games or, like, do literally anything that isn’t chaotic in nature?” Alana asks, sighing.

“Uhhh, that’s not really how we do things around here,” Doug says.

Renée snorts, “I mean, I would have to agree. You also work at Goddard, right? Like. You’re higher clearance level than I am. Are you trying to say things get less chaotic higher up the ladder?”

Alana pauses, “No, not at all. Which is why we should take this chance to just… kick back. Not be totally crazy for  _one_  second.”

“Hm. I hear you, I, too, thought maybe this night could go that way. I was sorely mistaken,” Doug says.

“It’s still somewhat young. Or, not. Wait, when does this Christmas party even end again?”

“It goes from 8pm to 1am though it is generally acceptable to leave starting at, say, 11:30 or 12:00. It is currently almost 11:00, so people are probably starting to gather themselves in preparation to make an exit,” Dr. Hilbert reminds them.

“Right,” Alana says. “So, we can just do our best to hang tight and wait it out for another 40 minutes or so and then we’ll be in the clear.”

“But what’s the fun in thaaaaaaaat?” Renée asks, looping her arm around her husband’s.

“What do  _you_  want to do, Renée?” Dominik asks with a smile on his face.

“I dunno, something fun,” she whines.

“I am living,” Doug whispers.

“I know,” she whispers as well, “an impromptu talent show!”

“No,” Dr. Hilbert says.

“No way,” Doug says, but he’s laughing. “No, boss, anything but that.”

“Come ooonn Eiffel, it will be fun,” she says.

Doug shakes his head, grinning at her, “Nope. We’ve already sang, none of that.”

“But Doug,” she says, pouting at him.

“Nuh-uh. No talent shows.”

“You’re such a…” she narrows her eyes at him.

“What? What am I?” Doug raises his brows at her.

“Ffffuddy-duddy,” she says, then laughs. “Oh, god,” she says, pausing. “I am so drunk.”

“Yeah, commander. Yeah you are,” Doug laughs at her and she looks up at Dominik.

“Maybe you should sit. Have some water?” Dominik suggests.

“Mh. Water.’’

“Water sounds like a fantastic idea,” Alana chimes in.

“I’ll go get some,” Dominik says. “You sit down, Renée.”

“There’s a cooler right down the hall,” Alana informs him. Dominik nods and leads his wife over to her desk chair. He grabs her access card, and then makes his way to the door.

“I can’t believe Cutter stole from my desk,” Doug mutters, going over to hop up on top of it.

“What do you think he meant when he said I had potential?” Renée asks, suddenly sounding bewildered.

“God. I have no idea,” Doug says, shaking his head.

“It’s… a good thing,” Alana pipes up.

“Hm,” Dr. Hilbert hums.

“Probably,” Alana adds.

“I  _wanted_  to go to space,” Renée says. “Why wouldn’t my potential be useful in space?”

“Hm, who knows,” Alana hums. “Cutter’s drunk, he even said so himself, and he’s not very straightforward. Always talking in silly little riddles,” she rolls her eyes. “Besides, I’m not sure  _Wolf 359_  would be the outpost you’d want. Haven’t you heard the whisperings up the line?”

“Some of the logs coming back are… distressed?” Renée says, thinking on it. “There’s a lot of system failures or… something.”

“Yeah, something like that. Either way, it’s troubled. It doesn’t sound like the best ride.”  

“Yeah, I guess. But, still. I wanna go to space,” Renée mumbles.

“Hey, you might get there someday yet,” Doug says. “You’re still keeping up with all your badass navigation and flight expertise, right?”

“I sure am,” Renée says.

“On top of being director of our division and, y’know, keeping me in line.”

“Which,” she points at him, “is the job of at least two people, even without that other stuff.”

Doug chuckles, “Exactly. And. Well. I may not think super highly of our dear ol’ demonic overlord Mr. Marcus Cutter, but if he says you have potential then… I think you can be hopeful that you’ll get wherever you wanna be.”

Renée smiles at him, her eyes looking a little dazed now that she’s more drunk than she was earlier. “Thanks, Doug. That means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, waving a hand. At that moment, his cellphone starts to ring, his ex’s name and number popping up on the screen when he pulls it from his pocket. He knits his brows and hops off his desk. “Uh, I gotta take this. I’ll be in the, ah, meeting room,” he says, walking towards the supply closet as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks as he shuts the door behind him. Her faces pops up, as does his in a smaller square at the top right corner of the phone screen.

“Doug,” Kate says. “Hi. Are you busy?”

“Just at the office holiday party. As I said I’d be. Since it’s, y’know, mandatory.”

“Still?” Kate asks, “Okay. Well, can you talk with Anne?”

“Uh, sure?” he says, tilting his head, “I thought we were gonna do this on Christmas, and we have a visit planned for tomorrow.”

“We will,” Kate says, “but she just wants to see you, I guess. She won’t stay in bed and she’s all hyped up, I don’t know,” she explained.  

“Okay, well, put her on, then,” he says, smiling, though it’s a bit confused.

“Hey, Annie,” Kate says, walking into another room. “Dad’s right here,” she says, slow and clear, and Doug hears his daughter let out a cheer. In a second, Anne’s face comes into view and Doug smiles at her.

“Hey kiddo!” He greets, then moves to find a place to prop his phone up. She waves at him and signs back ‘hello’.

He grins at her and starts to sign as he speaks, “How are you doing? Excited for Christmas? Missing your old man?”

“I’m good,” she starts, then she nods happily. “I can’t wait. Are you excited for your birthday?” she asks, signing and doing her best to articulate her words. Her voice sounds sleepy but she’s smiling.

“You know it,” he tells her.

“I got you presents,” she tells him.

“I’m sure they’re amazing,” Doug responds. “Can’t wait to open them. I got you some presents, too. For Christmas.”

“I know,” she smiles at him. “We’re spending day together tomorrow, right?”

“We sure are,” he grins.

“Good!” she smiles back at him. As Doug starts moving his hands to ask her another question, he hears a knock on the door. Instead, he signs to tell Anne to wait and opens the door.

“Hey,” Renée says, popping her head in, “is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Doug says. “It just-“

“Anne!” Renée calls out, stepping into the room and shutting the door. She squishes in next to Doug and smiles widely, waving before signing and saying, “How are you?”

“Good,” Anne smiles back at her.

“You remember my boss, Renée,” Doug says from next to her, singing as best he can with the now more limited space.

“Yes,” Anne replies.

“It’s so nice to see you,” Renée says, speaking slowly along with her signing. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

“Yes,” Anne replies, giggling a little.

“What’s Santa bringing you?” Renée asks, and Anne laughs more.

“Um, well. I’m getting a paint set with new brushes, good ones, and some modeling clay. And a couple of new games.”

“Wow,” Renée says, grinning. “So, you like to do art, huh? Your dad tells me you write stories, too.”

“Yeah,” Anne nods.

“That’s so great!” Renée tells her. “I’m sure they’re really good. You know, your daddy is really good at storytelling, too.”

“I know. He tells me lots of stories.”

“I’m sure he does,” Renée laughs, “that’s really good.” She looks over at Doug, giddy and affectionate, then turns back to the phone. “Well, it was very nice to talk to you! I’ll let you get back to your dad. Merry Christmas, Anne!”

“Merry Christmas,” Anne replies, smiling and waving as Renée leaves the supply closet. Doug shakes his head.

“Your boss is a nice lady,” Anne tells him, and Doug chuckles.

“I think she’s pretty great.”

“Does she really still believe in Santa?” Anne asks, scrunching her nose. Doug laughs louder.

“Sshh,” he lifts his finger to his lips, “just let her believe.” Anne laughs along with him until they go quiet. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about, pumpkin?” he asks her.

“No,” she shrugs. “I just didn’t want to sleep.”

“Well, do you think you wanna sleep a little more now?”

Anne makes a face, “I guesss.”

“It’s getting preeetty late, little lady.”

“Yeah,” Anne sighs.

“And if you go to bed now, morning will come even faster, and then I’ll get to see you for real! Wouldn’t that be better than staying up talking on the phone?”

“I guess,” Anne repeats, smiling a little. “Okay.”

“You ready to go to bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome,” Doug smiles at her. “Okay, Annie lou-hoo. It’s nighty night time, then.”

“Goodnight, dad,” Anne says.

“Goodnight, sweetpea. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, and they say their goodbyes for another few seconds before she ends the call. Doug sighs, smiling faintly as he picks up his phone.

When he exits the supply closet, he sees that Isabel and Daniel are back and have replenished their respective glasses, but there are a variety of displeased looks on people’s faces.  

“Hey,” he says.

“Hello, Eiffel,” Isabel greets, taking a sip from her mug.

“Uhh… is everything okay? Who died?”

“Nobody died,” Alana answers. “But we all might, yet.”

“Oh God, did we get caught?” Doug asks, frowning.

“No. Worse,” Alana says.

“What is it?” Doug presses.

“We’re stuck here,” Daniel says, tilting his head up to the ceiling where he’s perched on Doug’s desk yet again. “Caught in the middle of a storm, it hit  _super_  hard and visibility is at, like, less than zero. There’s no way we’re getting out of here in the next couple hours.”

“Shit,” Doug says. “I literally just told my daughter I’ll be seeing her tomorrow, I can’t be stuck here.”

“Well, that sh- wait, you have a kid?” Daniel asks.

“Uh. Yeah? Her photo is literally right next to you on the desk there?” Doug says, and Daniel looks around before picking it up.

“Oh. Very sweet. I thought this was some random kid.”

“Why the fuck would I have a picture of a random kid on my desk?”

“For shits? Obviously,” Daniel scoffs.

“Anyway- no, I have a child and I need to see her tomorrow. I cannot be stranded here.”

“And yet, what Dan did not finish saying is,” Lovelace starts, “you should be able to leave here by morning. Storm is estimated to last until, about, eh, 2 or 3 or something?”

“3:06, by the most reliable approximate measure,” Hera chimes in.

“Yeah, but, like, visibility won’t be a problem once the snow stops, and if we do have to stay here, you can get up and go early in the morning because it will stop soon enough for the ploughs to come by.”

“So, are you saying… our mandatory office holiday party just turned into an involuntary slumber party?” Renée asks.

“It seems that way,” Alana says.

“Okay. Well. We need blankets. And pillows. Y’know,” she pauses, “We could make a fort.”

“Oh my god,” Daniel says. “We… we could.”

“The technology is available,” Alana says, dry.

“Where would there be blankets and pillows?” Renée asks, humming.

“There are some in one of the closets at the end of the hall, in the emergency kits,” Hera says.

“Oh, please, don’t get the ones from the emergency kits. They itch like hell. I’ve pulled enough all-nighters here to know where the real stuff is stashed.”

“Oh, naturally, on the fourth floor. I was just thinking in the interest of time and ease,” Hera says, “and, well, no offense, but it’s not like I would understand the difference in comfort of different fabrics.”

“Totally fair,” Alana says. “Anyway, I can do a stealth mission to get the goods if anyone wants to join me.”

“I could stretch my legs,” Doug says.

“Will two people be enough? I could tag along as well,” Dominik says.

“Hm. As long as you can both keep it in check and follow orders.”

“Would not count on Eiffel for that,” Renée says.

“Hey!”

“Jus’ sayin’,” she says, spinning around once in the chair behind her desk before stopping herself and looking at him. “You know it’s true.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. I’ll be good, promise.”

“Okay,” Alana says, shutting her computer and standing up. “We’ll be back.”

“If you need anything, radio me,” Isabel says, holding up the walkie-talkie she procured earlier.

“Roger that, captain,” Doug says, and the three of them leave.

“My husband left me,” Renée says, a little glum.

“That’s okay, I’m here,” Isabel says, and Renée laughs at her

“It’s true, you are,” Renée replies, reaching out. Isabel sits on her lap and takes another drink from her mug.

“Ugh, why are you all so affectionate?” Daniel asks.

“That would be the booze,” Isabel says. “This office is not like this on the average day.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Hilbert insists.

“It helps that we’ve all been working together for. What. Three years now?”

“Something like that. Though you and I for a little less,” Renée says.

“We have reasons to bond, though,” Isabel points out.

“Frustrating subordinates,” Renée snorts.

“Precisely.”

“Are the people in your division not tight knit?” Isabel asks.

“Oh, some of us. And. Well, I guess Alana and I are pretty close. Or whatever.”

“Psh,” Renée says, “you two obviously are thick as thieves. Don’t even try to pretend otherwise.”

“Ugh,” Daniel rolls his eyes. “Like, yeah, obviously I love her. Get over it.”

“Awwhhh,” Isabel, Renée, and even Hera chorus and he groans loudly at them.

“Stop it. We don’t need to get all emotional. It’s not becoming.”

“C’mon, Jacobi, it’s Christmas. Christmas is all about the feels,” Isabel says firmly.

“Feels are disgusting and I hate them,” Daniel says.

“Sounds like you need to get over yourself,” Renée says.

“I mean,” Isabel says, looking down at her.

“What?”

“You’re not really one to talk. This is the most affectionate or open I’ve ever seen you. And, like. You’ve been working with us for three years and this is the first time we’ve met your husband.”

“Psh,” Renée says. “So, what? So, maybe sober me doesn’t do emotions. But not even drunk Daniel will do emotions, so, he should really be the focus here.”

“Like, fair, but drunk Daniel does spill his sob story to strangers in bars so I think we’re equal enough.”

“Wait, what?” Renée asks.

“Oh my god, you’ve gotta here this story,” Isabel says with glee. “Play it again, Daniel.”

“Jesus,” Daniel says, putting his glass down next to him. “Okay, so. The first time I met one  _Warren Kepler_ …” he trails off, launching into the story of how he met his superior office (and what really lead to him getting his job).

By the time he’s finished that story, and another one about one of his very first (legal) drinking experiences and the cute guy he met at this one bar and all the shit he told  _him_ on the first night, Dominik, Doug, and Alana are just returning. The ladies are laughing their heads off at Jacobi’s story, who is smirking gleefully.

“Hey, everybody,” Dominik greets, and the women look over to him as their laughter dies down. Daniel hops off the desk and goes to help Alana with the stack of blankets she’s carrying, though she just scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. 

“What was so funny?”

“Daniel is a chronic oversharer when he’s drunk,” Renée says, and Jacobi shushes her.

“Only with hot guys,” Daniel insists.

“Um, are we hot guys?” Isabel asks, “because what just happened?  _That_  was definitely oversharing.”

“No, it doesn’t count. Those were just stories of when I previously overshared, to hot guys.”

“Wait, wait, so… you’re admitting you think Colonel Kepler is hot?” Renée asks, a grin taking over her face.

“What? No! Dammit,” Daniel says, and Isabel and Renée burst back into laughter. “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Give it a break, Daniel,” Alana rolls her eyes as he drops the blankets in the middle of the floor and she tosses hers along with them.

“I do  _not_ ,” Daniel insists, then grumbles.

“Hey, well, you can keep the stories coming either way because two hot men just arrived,” Doug says, using his persuasive, sensual voice.

“Where?” Daniel asks, and Doug narrows his eyes at him. Daniel lets out a hoot, then glances at Doug again, and even sideyes Dominik for a moment. “Well. You know, this one time, when I was thirteen-”

“Oh, oh, do I know this one?”

“Alana, you know them all.”

“Why don’t we get the blankets and pillows situated and then we can go back to sharing overly personal stories like a  _real_  slumber party,” Renée suggest.

“Can we really make a fort?!” Daniel asks. Isabel chuckles at his enthusiasm.

“We can try,” Renée says.

“I’m sure we can pull it off,” Doug says, determined.

The next twenty minutes or so are spent rearranging furniture on the carpeted floor to the best of their ability, to make room for, and create, one sweet pillow fort. Miraculously, what is produced isn’t half bad, and everyone gets somewhat snuggled up together to return to story time. Well, everyone except Dr. Hilbert, who steals a blanket and intends to sit on one of the desk chairs that was moved to the wall.

“Hilbert! What are you doing? Come get cozy,” Doug calls, somehow having ended up on his side between Renée and Dominik.

“I am good out here.”

“What? No! We’re all in this together,” Doug says.

“Hm. No thank you.”

“Hilbert!” Doug yells. They go back and forth another few more times before Hilbert groans, loudly, and joins them in the fort, staying near the exit.

“Okay,” Renée says. “Now our entire Alternative, Cutter-less Goddard Futuristic Holiday Party committee is here. The founding members.”

“To us!” Daniel says, raising his cup. Isabel, being the only other one with a drink, raises her glass as well. Everyone else just mimics Daniel’s words and they cheer.

“So, uh, what happened when you were thirteen?” Doug asks, looking over at Jacobi.

“Oh, Christ, I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Too bad, so sad. Spill it,” Doug says.

“Well,” Daniel takes a deep breath, and everyone listens attentively as he launches into some wacky story about something that happened to him when he was younger.

His story reminds Doug of something  _he_  did, so that story is up next, which reminds Isabel of at least two other things, and the two of them go back and forth with some commentary and minor questions from the others until they wind up on an entirely different topic.

Sometime about an hour or two later, everyone starts complaining about not only being incredibly tired, but getting really warm in the fort. After a little longer and many more complaints, they decide to partially dismantle the fort so they’re not being covered by anything overhead.

Once this happens, Renée announces that, once again, she has a bright idea.

“Hera? Would it be possible for you to project something onto the walls or ceiling?”

“Of course,” Hera says.

“Well, since we’re all really tired but if we leave it as this, we’re probably just going to keep talking anyway, how about we put on a holiday movie and then really try to get some shut-eye?” Renée asks, and receives murmurs of agreement from the rest of them.

“Excellent. What movie should we watch?”

“I know a pretty good Hanukkah movie,” Daniel suggests.

“Sounds good,” Renée says, “is everyone in agreement?” more murmuring is all she gets, so she asks Daniel to tell Hera what to put on and then settles back down on top of the blankets and pillows they cushioned the floor with.

They all get as comfortable as they can, troubleshooting with Hera on the best angle for the projection before deciding on one for the duration of the film. A bit of chatter occurs near the beginning but, for the most part, it patters out, and they’re left half watching, half dozing.

It’s not half bad, for an alternative holiday party that had them hiding from their bosses, and even though they have to wait out a storm, it could certainly be worse situation. In fact, there may have even been some bonding, so for that they can actually be grateful. Friendships were both strengthened and, in some cases, formed. For what a holiday party is supposed to be, it may have actually quite hit the mark.

As time goes on, one-by-one, all of them start to fall asleep for real. Once Hera can tell they’re finally out, she dims and mutes the movie until it’s over, then stops the projection.

“Happy holidays,” she says in her whisper voice, although he knows none of them can hear here. Honestly, she’s glad they chose to hide out down here. Most of her systems, including vocals, don’t reach the floor the party is on because of all the restrictions in place. At least here she got to be included in the holiday party, and had someone to talk to.

To her, this was like spending the holidays with the only family she really has (pointedly not considering Dr. Pyrce), so she’s happy.

So, a quite successful holiday party indeed, from her perspective. And, while she couldn’t know for sure, it was a perspective shared by pretty much all of the humans conked out on the office floor, tangled together in a pile of stolen blankets and pillows.


End file.
